


Vagal Tone

by Ewebie



Series: Tumblr Shorts [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, This is just fluffy shorts to fill the gap, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr Shorts, there is no porn... but there is no plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewebie/pseuds/Ewebie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Vagal Tone</b>
</p>
<p>Etymology: L, <i>vagus,</i> wandering; Gk, <i>tonos,</i> stretching<br/>1 the level of activity in the parasympathetic nervous system.<br/>2 the inhibitory control of the vagus nerve over heart rate and atrioventricular conduction.</p>
<p>
  <i>Desperate people do foolish things. This man, it seemed, was going to make a run for it. Before running, though, he grabbed the nearby fire poker and took a swing at Lestrade and Sherlock, connecting with one or both in the scuffle. Then he was tearing off out through the back garden and into the laneway.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagal Tone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atiki/gifts).



> Based on the tumblr prompt by Atiki: "what if their first kiss happens spontaneously and john simply grabs sherlock and pulls him close and kisses him, and before sherlock has properly understood what’s about to happen, it’s already happening, and it’s too much to process and also there’s a john in his arms, kissing him and smiling, and it’s just too much, so sherlock just. fucking. faints."

Oh it had been brilliant. Thrilling. Astounding. John had watched with increasing adoration as Sherlock elucidated, his gesticulations growing into larger, more dramatic movements as his coat swirled in his wake. It was a sight to behold, and John was content to cross his arms and lean against the doorjamb and watch the animated tirade from Sherlock, the slightly dazed but understanding watchful gaze of Lestrade, and the twitchy anger building in their suspect. Well, perpetrator, apparently.

Twitchy turned into fidgety, which turned into nervous and desperate flinching. John felt himself tense. Desperate people do foolish things. This man, it seemed, was going to make a run for it. Before running, though, he grabbed the nearby fire poker and took a swing at Lestrade and Sherlock, connecting with one or both in the scuffle. Then he was tearing off out through the back garden and into the laneway.

John had been ready for it. He bolted after the man, faster to the dash and nimbler on his feet than the criminal non-mastermind. The fence was a bit of a challenge, but with the speed he’d built, John managed to vault over top, only skittering slightly as he landed and closing the gap between himself and the moron. The laneway was narrowing to a small entry before it would open onto the main street. Suddenly, John wanted to catch the man before he made it to open air. He put on a burst of speed as Sherlock appeared from the adjoining alleyway, bodily tackling the man and tumbling with him across the pavement.

The shout John gave was purely on instinct as Sherlock’s head collided with the brick wall with the thug’s assistance. And that was enough. John returned the favor, knocking the man into the ground and twisting an arm high up his back to keep him pinned in place. He shot a concerned stare in Sherlock’s direction. “Alright?”

Sherlock inched his way up the wall until he was standing and gazed down at John and the soon to be convicted felon with a wry smile. “Never better.”

John huffed out a laugh. “Idiot.”

“Queer.”

It was the wrong time to make a rude comment; John was not in the mood. He swung his elbow into the man’s temple and knocked him out cold. Then he stood, dusting his hands and giving one scornful nod at the prone body. “Arsehole.”

“Lestrade! Cuffs! If you would be so kind,” Sherlock called, still leaning against the wall.

“You’re a menace. How’s the head?” John reached for nape of Sherlock’s neck, his fingers seeking and quickly finding the bruised lump, buried under Sherlock’s curls.

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Sherlock hissed as John prodded.

“It’s not fine, you berk.” He tested the scalp and the swelling then slid his hand free anyway. “You are an absolute marvel.”

“You know you say that out loud?”

“Bloody terror.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock closed his eyes as he caught his breath.

“Amazing,” John whispered. “Brilliant.”

“I can hear your heartbeat from here.” It was an odd thought, and odder still that Sherlock would bother saying it aloud.

“Can you now?” John hummed. Sherlock flailed, his weight tipping forward unexpectedly as John tugged on the lapels of his coat. And then, for a brief moment, Sherlock stopped breathing, lest he steal the air right out of John Watson’s lungs as John’s lips pressed assuredly and warmly against his.

John made a pleased little sound in the back of his throat as Sherlock caught himself against John’s shoulders. And as quickly as it started, John broke the kiss, propping Sherlock back against the wall as Lestrade rounded the corner from the main street, huffing and puffing and a bit more out of breath than he’d ever admit.

John grinned and patted Sherlock’s shoulder, murmuring a soft, “Idiot.” Then he turned to explain away the suspect’s surprising and sudden lack of consciousness to Greg with a slightly menacing twinkle in his eyes.

“So he just… accidentally ran into your elbow?” Lestrade asked wryly as he handcuffed the unconscious man.

John’s face pinched. “Only after he tried to bash Sherlock’s head through the wall.”

“Ah,” Lestrade said simply. “I suppose he’s lucky he only ran into your elbow the once.” He turned to Sherlock, friendly concern in his voice, “And you’re alright?”

“Hm?” Sherlock’s back slid a few inches down the wall.

“Sherlock?” John was at his side, catching him before he could tip over.

“You look a bit pale there, mate,” Lestrade’s brow furrowed. “How hard did you say he hit his head, John?”

John eased him down until he was sitting again. “Sherlock? Hey, look at me.”

Sherlock blinked, first at John, only inches away, then up at Lestrade. “What?”

“Want me to get an ambulance?”

John caught Sherlock’s chin gently in his palm and turned him to face forward. “Hey, genius, you still in there?” The worry etched on his face belied the amused tone of his voice.

“Hm?” Sherlock furrowed his brow and focused on John’s face, his attention flitting from the creases around John’s eyes to his nose and mouth and chin, then back up to the top until John wet his lips nervously. Sherlock’s eyes widened as he mirrored the move. “You…”

John’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before his features softened. “Oh.”

“John? He alright?” Greg dropped a hand onto John’s shoulder.

John grinned up at him. “He’s grand. Bit melodramatic is all.”

“Hypotensive,” Sherlock muttered. “Tiny bit of vertigo.”

“That’s not vertigo,” John admonished fondly.

“High vagal tone,” Sherlock added. “Always had it.”

John snorted and turned away to smother a laugh into his shoulder. “You have not.”

“Did he nearly faint?”

“I didn’t faint,” Sherlock grumbled.

John shook his head and pushed up to stand. “Who knew our consulting detective was a swooner.” He held out a hand, pulling Sherlock unsteadily to his feet. “You alright with that one?”

Lestrade smiled. “Yeah. Best you’re not here when he comes to. Best he’s actually in a cell when that happens.”

“Right,” John slung Sherlock’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, you. Let’s get you home so I can take a proper look at that knock you took.” He started to lead Sherlock out of the laneway. Maybe they’d get lucky with a cab.

“I didn’t faint,” Sherlock insisted loudly. “It’s the… I have high vagal tone.”

John tilted his head to get a good look at Sherlock’s face. “High vagal tone?” he dropped his voice low so only Sherlock would hear. “If you faint every time I kiss you, we are going to have a problem.”

Sherlock stumbled over his own feet.

John laughed. “Thought so.”


End file.
